Analysis of Dogma

I have a god,
an obsession, a way of life.
His constant and ruthless energy
merely reminds me of the past,
as the moment evaporates like a morning dew,
thrusting me into the unforgiving sunlight.

My god has control, I don't;
I pretend and feign,
but this pompous charade
is destroyed by the sight of my bible
which burdens me with guilt
and an unfading regret for the unalterable.

An escape is absolutely impossible,
at least while my heart still beats,
mirroring the patterned hand,
with which my god reigns.
But this too shall pass,
for I, unlike my god, won't last forever.